


For Thirty Minutes

by Logicallly_Sarcastic



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Face Painting, Kid Fic, M/M, New Kid Stiles Stilinski, Painter Derek, School, Young Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 13:41:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10945671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Logicallly_Sarcastic/pseuds/Logicallly_Sarcastic
Summary: For thirty minutes, Derek sits there, painting his heart out, accenting Stiles’ features with the paints he had on hand. For thirty minutes, Derek had to sit, and attempt, to keep the little fifth grader still, laughing when he sneezed when the brush tickled the boy’s nose. For thirty minutes, Derek subconsciously thinks about how he never has taken so much time to put so much detail into a face painting before.





	For Thirty Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> HI GUYS! This is my first fic, so, if it's bad that would be why XD. Anyway, I really liked sterek kid fics, SO I DECIDED TO TREAT MYSELF ESPECIALLY BECAUSE I DID GOOD ON MY MATH EXAM.

Art has always been a hobby to Derek, something he can rely on to allow him the opportunity to release his pent up creativity and dreamful thoughts. To him, it’s a special kind of meditation. Something so free flowing and accepting, colorful and exquisite, and all he had to do was dip the brush in the paint and let go. Derek never truly had an idea set in mind of what he wanted to do; of course he’d looked at reference photos on google to at least get an idea of what he wanted to do, but in reality, it was all an unconscious process to him. Maybe that’s how 11th grade, 17 year old Derek ended up here, sitting, and waiting for the stampede of rowdy little fifth graders to come out of the auditorium from their choir concert so he could start painting faces, along with his friends, and fellow classmates, Erica, Lydia, and Kira. Those girls are some of the finest painters he’s ever seen. Derek has asked Erica on numerous occasions how she learned to be such a tremendous artist, and all she says is “It’s all in the makeup”, which Kira and Lydia agree with wholeheartedly. Of course he’s the “prodigy student” as the teachers claims, so he’s always the number one choice for events like this. Malia, his cousin, is also in the class, but she works best with clay because it’s easier for her to take her aggression out on it when she’s pissed.

A sudden crash and the loud yell of “It’s a stampede!” from Erica, shakes Derek out of his thoughts. He watches as the kids each line up in single file lines at the four painting stations, eager and already picking out what they want. For the next four hours he’s sitting in the same seat, on a constant cycle of paint, clean, dip, paint, clean, dip. To him, the hours fly by like an unconscious thought, and he couldn’t care less. Derek is finishing up the last kid in his line when he looks over and see’s a kid standing alone with an unpainted face, leaning against the school lockers with an expression so close to despair it hurts Derek himself. 

“Hey kid!” Derek calls.

Startled, the kid looks up with wide, whiskey and golden brown eyes, staring at Derek like a deer caught in headlights. After a few seconds with the kid still standing there, Derek waves him over with a small huff. The kid has as a ghost of a smile on his lips, and before Derek knew what was happening the kid was skipping over with the biggest grin, pearly whites out and all.

“Hi! I’m Stiles! What’s your name? ” the kid is missing one of his front teeth so his pronunciation of the letter ‘s’ is extended due to his lisp.

“I’m Derek, wanna get your face painted?” just in case he gets his brushes ready.

That seems to break the dam because the kid is suddenly listing off all of the things he wants, and how he wants it. Derek tries his best to keep up with the unintelligible babble. Stiles’ personality reminds Derek of something, and before he can reign his thoughts in, he blurts out a suggestion

“What about a fox?”

With a small jerk of his body, the kid stops moving altogether, which is weird because he’s been twitching nonstop. The slow widening of Stiles’ eyes, and then the sudden whip of his head towards Derek direction lets him know that he hit the jackpot.

“Yesyesyesyes! Pleeeeeaaaase will you paint a fox? Please?” Derek watches in amusement as the kid jumps up and down at a speed that he didn’t even know was possible.

With a nod of his head, Derek gets to work. He sets up his oranges, blacks, browns, and whites. He tries to think of the best way to shape the fox and have it fit perfectly over the kids features. Derek quickly figures out the best way to paint the fox, dips his brush in the bit of orange paint he has out, and gets to work.

Slowly, but surely, the outline of an orange fox comes to life. The small detailed lines of the whiskers, the large accentuation of the eyes, the sharpening of the cheekbones to better fit the narrow face of the animal, are all painted with such delicacy that only the most dedicated and most practiced artists can obtain. Oranges and blacks, whites and gold, yellow and browns, are all mixed, slashed, traced, and dotted onto the younger boy’s face, essentially bringing a creature to life on the flesh of a person made canvas.   
For thirty minutes, Derek sits there, painting his heart out, accenting Stiles’ features with the paints he had on hand. For thirty minutes, Derek had to sit, and attempt, to keep the little fifth grader still, laughing when he sneezed when the brush tickled the boy’s nose. For thirty minutes, Derek subconsciously thinks about how he never has taken so much time to put so much detail into a face painting before. For thirty minutes, Derek realizes that his mother and Stiles’ dad are standing off to the side, watching the interaction. 

For thirty minutes, Derek’s wolf paces and whines, saying “mine” over and over again. For a split second, Derek thinks that the little boy might mean more to him than he ever thought.


End file.
